Title: War.
Continuity: 'Ben Franklin.' (Season Three's 14th episode.)
Song: Heartbreak Warfare, by John Mayer. (Fragment.)
Feedback: Of course, reviews are highly appreciated.
Warning/Comments: Pam's POV. Slightly A/U. Drabble. I'm actually kind of happy about this – I'm not saying it is the best thing ever, but at least it's not that bad. I want to apologize about its lack of length, and about the fact that it might be slightly confusing – the tiny bits in italics would be Pam's thoughts, and the rest of the chapter, the description of the scene. I chose Heartbreak Warfare because it's a really good song and its lyrics fit quite well with the situation – I wonder if John Mayer watches The Office, haha. Just kidding. Okay, I'll stop - just read and review if you want to.
Drop his name, push it in and twist the knife again.
Watch my face, as I pretend to feel no pain, pain, pain…
Clouds of sulfur in the air; bombs are falling everywhere:
it's heartbreak warfare.
Once you want it to begin, no one really ever wins
in heartbreak warfare…
I can do this. It can't be that hard. If he can move on and not care about my feelings, I should at least try. At least I already know what I have to do: he's taught me how. I have to be cold, distant, sharp, merciless…
Pam enters the room, spots Jim, quickly orders herself not to look at him, walks over to the vending machine – the one he's not leaning on, that is – and starts putting coins into it before grabbing a soda, while he subtly moves his body away from hers, afraid that the proximity might help uncovering the sparks in the air between them.
She shakes her head no at Kelly's ridiculous – yet kind of helpful – accusation and prepares herself.
Don't worry, Jim, it'll only hurt a second, I promise.
So she pauses for a second, takes a deep breath and then…
Now.
… she attacks.
"God, I need a boyfriend. You know Ryan, I'm totally ready to be set up with one of your business school friends. Whenever."
As the three sentences fall of her delicate lips – the lips he'd dreamed of more than once – he flinches visibly, feeling as uncomfortable as ever, and attempts to hide the fear and the shock –failing miserably at it.
Cold, distant, sharp, merciless. It wasn't that hard.
Knowing that she should be somehow satisfied with her performance, but being unable to feel that way pisses her off, so she walks away without looking back, convinced that if she does, if her eyes and his meet and she sees the tiniest bit of pain written in those green eyes of his, she'll lose control – something she tries to avoid as she walks back to her desk and sits down.
Well, that didn't help at all, she tiredly concludes after examining her actions a thousand times. What a surprise!